


Magical Friendship 2

by ThatMasterOnline



Series: Magical Friendship [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:35:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 16,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23099431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatMasterOnline/pseuds/ThatMasterOnline
Summary: This is the continuation of Magical Friendship! I'll think of a better title sometime. Or maybe I won't, haha, we'll see.Crowley and Aziraphale move into their second year of hogwarts, where some things stay the same, and some things change forever.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Magical Friendship [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656478
Comments: 43
Kudos: 54





	1. Reunion

"Crowley." It was the day before they were set to go back to school.

"Yeah, mom?"

"Study hard in potions this year. I will ask Professor Snape to give you remedial lessons."

"What? But my potions marks were fine!"

"Exactly. You excel at potions. You can be better."

"But why?"

"Because as much as I don't care about marks, I want you to have one area of proficiency. With a human friend, you'll need to learn to survive in the human world with him, which may mean getting a job. You can't do that if you're mediocre. Excel in potions."

"...Yeah, sure. Whatever."

***

_ Madam Crowley, _

_ Due to an unfortunate and sudden scheduling conflict, Gabriel and I will not be able to drop Aziraphale off at the train station at the start of this year. Would it be alright if he stayed with you, in the days leading up to his return to school? He will have all his spellbooks prepared, so you won't have to worry about materials. _

_ Best Wishes, _

_ Uriel Elizabeth Fell _

***

_ Miss Fell, _

_ As I said when we spoke, Aziraphale is more than welcome to stay with us. I can pick him up on the twentieth of August from your house, unless you'd like to make other arrangements? _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Beatrice Crowley _

_ *** _

_ Beatrice, _

_ That works perfectly. I will see you at ours on the twentieth of August. I look forward to seeing you again. Our address is 10462 West St. James Boulevard, London, England. It's one of only three houses on the boulevard, so you shouldn't miss it. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Uriel Fell _

_ *** _

"Crowley."

"Yeah, mum?"

"Aziraphale is coming to stay with us."

"Really, when?"

"I'll pick him up on the twentieth."

"...Did his parents have another business trip?"

"There was an unfortunate and sudden scheduling conflict. Which I take to mean they agreed to the business trip without considering whether Aziraphale would be affected."

"Bastards."

"Yes."

***

The doorbell rang.

"I'll get it!" Aziraphale called, getting up and answering the door. He blinked in utter shock when he saw the person standing on the doorstep.

"H-hello, Miss Bea…"

"Hello, Aziraphale. Are you all packed and ready to go?"

"Go? Go where?"

"Yes, he's all packed," Gabriel chimed in, "Beatrice Crowley, I've heard good things about you from my wife. Yes, Aziraphale's all packed up and ready to go. Aziraphale, go get your school stuff, okay?"

"But where am I going?"

"Something came up, we can't drop you off at school this year, so Beatrice has agreed to let you stay at her place, and she and Crowley will take you to the train."

"Oh…"

"Go get your things, Aziraphale."

"...Yes, father…"

When everything was brought out, both parents gave him one last hug.

"Study hard, Aziraphale. We love you."

"I love you too, mother. I'll miss you."

"Not to worry, Aziraphale, we'll see eachother at Christmas." Aziraphale didn't look remotely convinced.

"Oh, honey, turn that frown upside down, hey?" Aziraphale forced a small smile.

"Good boy. Alright, off you go."

"Goodbye, mother. Goodbye, father!" he called, and Gabriel, deep in conversation with a well-dressed man who hadn't been there a minute ago, smiled and waved from the window.

"Hold onto your things, Aziraphale, we don't want them getting lost. And hold tight to my hand, same as last time."

"Yes, Miss Bea." They apparated to the same footpath as last time, and Aziraphale staggered and fell to the ground and was nearly sick, same as last time. Bea waited silently for him to regain his bearings, then led him to the house. He took off his shoes and socks, and both Crowley and his father were there when he opened the door. 

"Aziraphale!" Crowley hugged him, and his father slid towards him, wrapping around him gently.

"Hello, Crowley. Hello, Mr. Crowley." Crowley's father nudged his cheek, then pulled himself so he was in front of Aziraphale's face and flicked his tongue out so it tickled Aziraphale's nose. Aziraphale giggled, pulling Crowley's father in close, if still a touch tentatively. 

"Aziraphale. You look tired. Do you want to rest?"

"I- yes, please, if that's alright."

"The couch is where it was last time. Crowley, help Aziraphale bring his things to your room."

"Course. Come on, angel."

"...How was your summer?" Aziraphale asked.

"Same old, same old. Mom wants me to do really well in potions this year, though. Says she's gonna have professor Snape tutor me and everything. Says if I'm going to have a human friend and actually live in the human world I have to specialize in something so I can get a job. Weird, but whatever. You?" Aziraphale shrugged.

"Mom and I did some practicing together, which was nice. Neither of them bothered to mention I was coming here until your mother showed up at my door."

"Typical."

"They're...My parents are...forgetful people."  _ Forgetful _ , not  _ good _ . Crowley sighed. Realizing his parents were bastards was going to be a tough deal for Aziraphale, but he'd be better off because of it. If he had no expectations, he couldn't be let down, at least.

"One day you'll call them what they are, which is right bastards. Anyway, welcome back, Aziraphale."

"...Thank you, Crowley."

"...Right, there you are. I'll wake you up in a few hours for dinner in case you're hungry, alright?"

"Alright."

***

Aziraphale tried not to cry, he did, but when Crowley's father came in to check on him his shoulders were shaking. Crowley's father slid on top of him, resting his head on Aziraphale's shoulder, and squeezed gently, almost like a hug.

"You've loved me more in a few weeks than my real dad has my whole life," Aziraphale said. Crowley's father squeezed him again comfortingly, and eventually Aziraphale fell asleep with the soothing weight of Crowley's father on top of him. It felt good. To have someone who was there for you when you were upset. It must run in the family.


	2. Potions and Practice

"Angel…" Crowley trailed off.

**_"Giving him the special treatment, dad?"_ **

**_"I have never seen a child look so miserable as when Aziraphale walked through that door. I wanted to make him feel better."_ **

**_"His parents didn't tell him they couldn't drop him off at the train station. He said he didn't know he was coming here until mom showed up at the door. Are you gonna try to bite me if I wake him for dinner?"_ **

**_"I am extremely fond of your human friend, but you are still my son. I would never bite you."_ **

**_"I dunno, dad, you look like you're protecting him."_ **

**_"Only from cold and solitude."_ ** His father squeezed Aziraphale once, nudging his cheek, and Aziraphale stirred, letting out a sound.

"Hmm…"

"Angel?"

"Crowley…?"

"Dinner's ready, you hungry?"

"Oh, yes, absolutely famished." He started to get up, noticed Mr. Crowley was still on top of him, and stilled.

"Just shove him off, angel." Aziraphale pressed, gently.

"Mr. Crowley...can I get up?" Mr. Crowley, having figured out what he wanted, squeezed one more time, then slid onto the floor and out the door.

**_"Perhaps there will be a nice rabbit outside for dinner. Perhaps some pests in the garden."_ **

**_"Have fun hunting."_ **

**_"I always do."_ **

***

"Study hard, Anthony."

"Yep." Even his tone sounded confused.

"See you at Christmas."

"Yep."

"Aziraphale. You are welcome back at our place if your parents abandon you again." Aziraphale nodded, like he knew he would be coming back for Christmas. After Bea had given them free reign to not have him in the house...He sighed.

"Your parents are bastards, Aziraphale, but we love you," Crowley said, and Aziraphale smiled.

"I only met you last year, and I already don't know what I'd do without you."

"Sit at home and do nothing, probably."

"The train is leaving, Anthony."

"Right. Bye, mum."

"Goodbye, Bea." Bea nodded, then turned and left.

***

"Mr. Crowley, wait a moment, please." Crowley gulped as he walked up to Professor Snape's desk.

"Yes, sir?"

"Your mother has asked me to provide further instruction for you in potions. I understand this is your last class today?"

"Yes, sir, but I'm meeting Aziraph-"

"Mr. Fell, I'm sure, will understand."

"But, sir, he'll be waiting at-" Snape waved his wand, and a piece of parchment materialized.  _ Mr. Crowley has a remedial potions lesson and will be unable to make your appointment. He apologizes for the inconvenience  _ swirled its way across the page in neat cursive, then with a flick of Professor Snape's wand the note became a bird and flew off.

"Are there any other objections?"

"...No, sir. Just a question."

"...Well?"

"Why? Why am I doing potions lessons?"

"Because your mother is concerned about your ability to find a job, given your dismal marks in other subjects. Now. Today we are going to be learning to brew a simple sleeping potion. Effective for rendering unsavoury people unconscious for a few hours or for helping insomniacs get a full eight hours. Here is the list of ingredients, fetch them from my store room."

"Yes, professor."

***

"Sorry about yesterday, angel."

"It's no problem, Crowley. I asked Professor Flitwick to teach me how to make notes fly, so I learned something."

"What are you going to use that for?"

"Sending notes to you, obviously."

"Notes aren't allowed in the halls, angel, remember?"

"Oh...well then...I can use it to entertain myself. And while on holidays."

"Sure."

***

"Ready, angel?" Crowley had his wand pointed at Aziraphale again. Aziraphale gulped.

"Not really. This never stops being scary."

"I know. You have a mat this time, though, for whatever good that'll do. And you know I'll stay with you." Aziraphale nodded.

"Ready?" Aziraphale nodded again.

"... _ Petrificus totalus _ ." Aziraphale toppled backwards, landing on the mat.

"Angel?" Crowley was at his side already. Aziraphale blinked a confirmation that he was alright, then started struggling. He was getting good. After a few minutes of silence, the fingers in his right hand twitched. Crowley looked toward the sound, then back up at Aziraphale.

"Angel...did you just move?" Aziraphale blinked.

"What? It's...it's actually possible? Amazing, angel! You moved! You can beat this thing! Keep trying, angel, you've got this!"

Aziraphale didn't quite manage to "get this", but he did clench his fist, which was a far sight better than anyone their age, and even most adult wizards. Crowley told Aziraphale not to eat at breakfast, then treated him to a breakfast of bacon and eggs direct from the kitchen.

***

"There. That's the love potion done. Can I go now?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"The love potion is meant to be pink, not red. It is too potent. Make it again. You may leave when you get it right."

"But, sir…!"

"The longer you wait, the later you stay, Mr. Crowley."

"...Yes, sir…"


	3. Breakdown

"Quidditch! I can't wait to see how many people will get concussions this year!"

"That's mean, Crowley."

"Snape's been keeping me until I perfect my potions, I have to let out my frustrations somehow! Watching stupid kids get injured is the perfect way to do it!"

"Well, I think I can safely say that everyone on that quidditch pitch is immensely happy you decided not to try out as a beater."

"Quidditch is dangerous, I wouldn't do it myself, that would be stupid."

"Oh, look! Michael just scored for Gryffindor."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot Michael Park was on the team. GO MICHAEL!!! WOO!!!"

"So everyone else playing quidditch is an idiot, but not Michael?"

"Oh, he's still an idiot, but we're sort of friends, so I support him while he's being an idiot, that's all...DOWN, ANGEL!" Crowley didn't wait for a response, covering Aziraphale's head with his hands and forcing him down, ducking just in time for a bludger to zoom right where Aziraphale's head would have been. A beater whizzed over their heads a second later, and Crowley stood up, looking indignant.

"Watch your flight, you damn beater!" he yelled, then turned to Aziraphale.

"Alright, angel?"

"Yes, I...I'm alright. Thank you, Crowley. I really didn't enjoy my first stay in the hospital wing, and I've no desire to go back."

"No problem." He looked away bashfully. "I didn't enjoy your first stay in the hospital wing, either."

***

_ Aziraphale, _

_ Your father and I have agreed to go on a diplomatic mission to Algeria. You'll be staying with Beatrice over the Christmas break. I trust you have no objections, Crowley is your friend, after all. _

_ Mom _

***

" _ Well _ , on the bright side…" Aziraphale huffed, slumping into the seat across from Crowley in the great hall, "I got a whole two months' notice this time."

"Two months...what, you're not going home for Christmas again?"

"Mom says I'm staying with Bea. And that she trusts I have no objections because 'Crowley is your friend, after all'." Aziraphale sighed heavily.

"Maybe this Christmas I should ask to be able to come home over spring break," Aziraphale said glumly.

"Worth a shot," Crowley said, "...Mum and dad'll make you feel welcome, angel."

"I know, I know, I just…"

"Your parents are bastards."

"No, just...busy. Very...very busy."

***

"How's that charms club of yours going?"

"Well, alright. Mom sent a letter to Professor Flitwick asking him to do more defensive and offensive spells. He's trying really hard to balance it out with fun charms and things, but…" Aziraphale sighed. "...My parents get what they want."

"And they don't want you to have fun." 

"They...they want me to be good for when I become an auror."

"You want to be an auror?" Aziraphale hated dueling, an auror was the last thing he thought Aziraphale would want to be.

"Er…" Oh. The hesitation was long enough that Crowley understood, and it all became too much.

"Crowley?! Are you- I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean to, I'm sorry, please don't cry, I'm sorry, come here, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry, I'm sorry, it's alright, it's okay…" Aziraphale pulled Crowley into his arms, rocking him and shushing him constantly.

"It's not fair, Aziraphale!" Crowley sobbed, "They don't get to control your life like this! It's not fair! Why can't they just let you be happy?"

"Crowley, I  _ am _ happy-"

"No you're not! You never see your parents, they never spend time with you, they're making you practice for something you don't even want to be when you grow up, and you can't even have charms club! Why did they even have a kid if they didn't want to be around you?"

"Well…." Crowley looked up, more tears leaking out of his eyes.

"You know why," he croaked, "You know why they had you when they didn't want to." Aziraphale shrugged.

"Well...You see...They're very important people, my parents, lots of media coverage, lots of people watching and judging you...Mom and dad don't even really love eachother, you know. They respect eachother very much, they're both powerful people, of course, but...they both were single, and...like I said, positions like that have a lot of people judging you, and...well...marriage is sort of the  _ done  _ thing, so they got married, for mutual benefit. And that was going to be that, but then people started asking mom when she'd be having kids, and, you know, her reputation is very important, so she had a talk with dad about it, because he'd need to be a part of it, too, and...Well, nine months later mom was on leave going absolutely mad because she wasn't at work."

"Aziraphale…" Crowley was an absolute wreck, "I'm so sorry…"

"It's alright, Crowley-"

"It's not alright! They didn't even want you! All you are to them is...is a reputation-booster! You becoming an auror is only because the child following in mummy and daddy's footsteps is the  _ done thing _ ! Your entire life has only been about what's  _ expected _ , not what you want! It's not fair! It's not  _ right _ !"

"...Perhaps not...but if mom and dad hadn't done the  _ done thing _ ...what would you be doing right now? I wouldn't exist, we wouldn't have met and become friends, I wouldn't have been alive to eat chocolate and learn how to make notes into birds...It's hard, but I get to do all sorts of things because mom and dad did the  _ done thing _ . I...I think...that's nice. They may not have done it for the right reasons...but I have a life. That's...that's good, isn't i- oh, Crowley, I'm sorry, I should just stop talking-"

"No! Don't you  _ ever _ stop talking, Aziraphale,  _ ever _ ! You talk all the time, about anything you want to!"

"But I'm making you cry-"

"Because your life is so miserable that just  _ being alive _ is all you have to be glad about!! Because you don't owe your parents anything just for giving birth to you! Having you was their decision, and it's not your job to be their little plaything they can show off to the press! You deserve  _ better _ , Aziraphale!"

"I have better."

" _ Where _ ?"

"Right here. With you. You're the first person who hasn't cared about who my parents were, and who isn't afraid to speak your mind about them. We're friends, Crowley. Proper friends, not just show-friends. That's better than I've ever had before." Crowley dropped his head back to Aziraphale's shoulder and kept right on crying.

"If...If you could choose," he finally said, "If you could be anything you want, in the whole wide world...what would you be? Not what your parents want, what you want."

"Me?" Aziraphale thought. "If I could do anything...I think I'd like….a bookshop. Just a little one, with not many customers, where I could read, and...and have little note birds flying about, and I could practice all my spells, all the time…"

"...That's my angel," Crowley finally said, a watery smile on his face, "That sounds like something you'd want." He buried his face in Aziraphale's shoulder.

"You'll get your bookshop, angel. I promise. I'll make it happen."


	4. Halloween

"Angel, look!"

"Crowley-" Aziraphale was cut off as Crowley all but shoved an armful of candy into his face.

"What-what is all this?"

"Candy, angel, it's Halloween!"

"I-I see that...What's it for?"

"Well, whatever you like is for you. The rest I'm gonna infuse with sleeping potions and leave them lying around for anyone to pick up!"

"But...why?"

"To put people to sleep!"

"But...why?"

"Because it'll be funny! Worst thing that happens is a student finds them and calls a teacher to wake them up!"

"But...didn't you learn how to brew a sleeping potion just a few weeks ago?"

"Exactly!"

"Won't Professor Snape know it's you when people start falling asleep around school?"

"I'm not gonna do it all the time, angel, only...once a month or so. I'm not gonna get caught."

"I...well...I suppose…"

"You'll see, angel, it'll be great. Candy?"

"Are they infused with sleeping potion?"

"No, angel. I would never put you to sleep, unless you wanted me to." 

"Well...I did just eat an awful lot of halloween candy…"

"See? A nap would do you some good."

"Oh...Well, I suppose. Promise nobody's going to get hurt?"

"Promise."

"Alright. I've been eyeing that chocolate frog, can I have it?"

"Consider it yours, angel."

"Don't eat too much candy." Crowley raised his eyebrows.

"...Remind me who I had to all but carry back to their dorm last year?"

"...I already finished my candy,  _ you're  _ the one who tempted me into another chocolate frog."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, angel."

***

"Do you know what the homework is over winter break, Crowley?"

"Snape wants two rolls of parchment on the sleeping potion, and he also wants me to get shed skin from my dad for something we'll be working on after the break."

"...And what else?"

"Do I care?" Aziraphale sighed.

"Two rolls of parchment on transfiguring live animals for McGonagall, and a roll of parchment on Merlin for Binns."

"Good to know. Do them for me?"

"You can do them  _ yourself _ , Crowley."

"Ugh, fine."

***

It was the night before they were set to head home for Christmas break. Aziraphale decided to go to bed early. He'd been feeling especially tired today, almost falling asleep in his last class. Tomorrow he'd meet Crowley in the great hall and they would go back to Crowley's house for Christmas break, but tonight he was exhausted and he wanted to sleep.


	5. Common Cold

"Ready to go, angel?" They had met in the great hall, planning to walk to the train station together.

"Yes. Thank you for letting me stay again, Crowley." Aziraphale swallowed, his face suddenly contorting into a pained grimace. Crowley's gaze sharpened.

"Alright?"

"Yes, just...my throat hurts when I swallow."

"We'll get you some tea when we get home, alright?"

"Yes, that sounds lovely." Another swallow, another grimace of pain. Crowley jerked his head.

"Come on, angel."

The train ride home was uneventful. Aziraphale grimaced every time he swallowed, and by the time they got back to King's Cross Aziraphale's throat seemed to be hurting him constantly. He was rubbing at it absentmindedly the whole way back to the house. Bea caught on immediately.

"Aziraphale. Would you like tea?"

"Yes, please."

"With honey?"

"Yes, please." 

"Anthony. Don't do anything strenuous with him today."

"Yep."

"And Aziraphale. Go to bed early tonight."

"Yes, Bea."

Bea brought him his tea, and he and Crowley sat and talked. When Aziraphale's throat got too sore, Crowley kept up most of the conversation, and Aziraphale just listened. Aziraphale went to bed early as directed, with Crowley's assurances that he'd sleep it off and be just fine tomorrow.

***

Aziraphale woke the next morning with a groan that immediately prompted a coughing fit. His body hurt, his throat hurt, and the moment he stopped coughing he realized his nose was running and sniffed. He coughed again, swallowing and grimacing. He felt awful, tired and weak and achy and just awful. He sniffed again, and Crowley stirred.

"Aziraphale…?"

"Zorry, Crowley," he said around his blocked nose, "Did I wage you?" Crowley sat up, eyes locking on Aziraphale.

"Are you alright?"

"I think I'm zick." 

"Alright, stay there, I'll get mum." Crowley hopped out of bed and a minute later he came back, followed by his mother. Bea put a hand on his forehead.

"He's got a fever." And then, to Aziraphale, "I'll bring you breakfast."

"Thang you." A minute after that Bea came back with a slight breakfast of toast and scrambled eggs. When he finished she handed him a small bottle.

"Drink this. It's a sleeping potion. You'll rest until you're better."

"Zorry...I don' mean to be a bother…"

"Nonsense. Drink." Aziraphale drank, and heaviness spread over his body immediately. He had just enough time to lie down before the heaviness pulled him under.

***

Aziraphale felt something sliding over his arms. His eyes opened halfway, and through his blurry vision he could see Crowley's father working his way under the covers of the blanket. Mr. Crowley's head came back out a moment later, relaxed, looking at him. Through the potion-induced heaviness, Aziraphale could vaguely feel the weight of Mr. Crowley's body covering him like a blanket. It helped fight off the cold, somewhat.

"Mr....Crow...ley…?" He asked in a mumbled whisper, his mind foggy.

**_"Warm…Shhhhhhhhhh…Sssssssleep…"_** Yes, he was warm, with his fever. Snakes were cold-blooded. Aziraphale was probably like a cozy fire to him. Mr. Crowley was just seeking heat, and helping to keep him warm, too. His eyes closed, but then he realized that Mr. Crowley had spoken to him, in English. Had he become a parselmouth in his blurry, fever-ridden state? Was he hallucinating?

"Mr....Crowley...you..." The rest of the sentence was lost as the heaviness took hold of him again.


	6. Recovery

Aziraphale woke some time later, sitting up, eyes still half-closed, blearily looking around. Crowley's father slithered off of him as he moved to get out of bed.

***

Dull thudding could be heard from the direction of the bedroom, and both Bea and Crowley looked up immediately. Crowley got up from where he was sitting in the dirt, brushed himself off, then went to check. The thudding stopped, but Crowley kept walking.

Aziraphale was awake, barely. He was clearly still heavily under the influence of the sleeping potion, stumbling left and right down the hall that led to the living room and barely seeming to know where he was. His father was behind Aziraphale, body held up as far as he could without toppling over, and he was essentially cushioning Aziraphale with his body, stopping him from stumbling too far in any one direction, stopping him from bumping into the walls, and, perhaps, for all intents and purposes, keeping him on his feet.

"Angel?"

"Crowley…" Yep, still under the influence. His voice slurred like he was heavily drugged...which he was. "...Wha' timeizit?"

"Little after four. What are you doing awake?"

"'Mhungry…"

"I will make something." Aziraphale took in a breath, eyes struggling to open wide enough to find the source of the new voice.

"Oh...Miss Bea…" She let that one slide...just this once.

"Come sit here, angel." Crowley helped guide Aziraphale down to the ground beside him, where he quickly put his head on Crowley's shoulder and closed his eyes again.

"How're you feeling, Aziraphale?"

"...Tired…"

"No, I meant your cold." Aziraphale seemed to struggle with that question, going silent for long enough that Bea came back with a sandwich.

"Here." She pressed the plate into his hands, and Aziraphale hummed a response, likely a thank you, bringing the sandwich slowly to his mouth and biting down.

"...Body hurts…" he finally responded at length. "...Tired...So tired...Little hot…"

"Alright. You can go back to sleep after this, and we'll see how you feel when you shake off that potion completely, alright?" Aziraphale hummed an affirmative. When he finished his sandwich, which it looked like he had in fact eaten in his sleep, Crowley helped him stand and walk back to his room. He sat Aziraphale back down on his couch, helped Aziraphale back under the blankets, and tucked him in a bit.

"Need anything else?"

"Hm. ...mm…" Crowley smirked affectionately.

"Right, then. Goodnight, Angel."

"Hm…" Crowley smiled and went back to where he had been sitting in the living room. 

***

**_"How is he?"_ ** Mr. Crowley, draped across his son's lap, flicked his tongue out.

**_"He slept. That can only be good for him. His fever has gone down slightly, he's not as warm as he was when I first came in. I'll admit, I'll miss the warmth. Sleeping with Aziraphale was the warmest I've been in ages. It's a pity the fever is hurting him."_ **

**_"I'll ask Aziraphale if he knows any warming spells...you oversized teddy bear."_ ** Crowley's father bumped his snout against Crowley's shoulder, and Crowley laughed.

***

Aziraphale woke properly a little while later, and he walked back into the living room, rubbing his eyes and yawning but looking much more awake than before. 

"How're you feeling, angel?"

"A little achy...My head is still fuzzy from that potion...What time is it?"

"About six thirty. You slept all day, which is good. Feeling better?"

"Yes...My body doesn't hurt quite so much, and I'm not as cold…"

"Dad did say your fever went down a bit."

"Dad...Oh, Crowley, I...I think...I...I heard your dad speak English to me…Was I hallucinating?"

"Depends. What were you doing and what did he say?"

"I...I woke up and he was crawling under the covers with me. I tried to ask what he was doing and...and he said that I was warm, that it was nothing to worry about and that I should go back to sleep."

"...Did he  _ literally _ say all that?"

"Well, no...He said 'Warm. Shhh. Sleep.'"

"Then you probably weren't hallucinating. Dad knows a couple English words, but not many. He got his point across, though."

"Yes...I thought I'd become a parselmouth." Crowley smiled.

"I could teach you a word or two, if you'd like. When you're better."

"Would you? I would love to be able to understand what you and your father say."

"You probably won't get that far, but we can try."


	7. Parseltongue Lesson

Aziraphale took sleeping potions and slept through the better part of the next two days. Finally, the last dose of sleeping potion wore off and Aziraphale finally felt back to normal.

"What a terrible way to start my Christmas break," Aziraphale sighed one morning, sitting in the living room with his head on Crowley's shoulder and Mr. Crowley draped across both their laps. Bea, as was her habit, sat on the other side of the room, observing but not participating. Crowley's father hissed to his son.

**_"He seems more lethargic than usual, but he also seems fully recovered. I'm glad...though I'll miss the warmth."_** Crowley smirked.

"Dad says he's glad you're better...but that he'll miss the heat from your fever. Which reminds me, I haven't told him about your fever-induced language-switching episode. I'm about to, though. He'll probably get a laugh...as much as snakes  _ can _ laugh, which isn't at all." **_"...Aziraphale says you spoke English to him. Made him think he was hallucinating, or that he'd miraculously become a parselmouth."_ **

**_"Please do convey my apologies, and assure him that I was indeed speaking English."_ **

"Dad says he's sorry and that he  _ was _ speaking English, you weren't losing your mind."

"Well, thank you."

"By the way, do you know any warming spells, by chance? Warm dad up again?"

"No, I don't...I can ask Professor Flitwick when we get back, though."

"Works for me."

***

"The good news is that parseltongue is basically English."

"...You're joking."

"I'm not! Some English guy from like the fourteenth century used magic to make his pet snake speak English, and then that snake had babies, and that snake had babies, and so on."

"So there are some snakes who can speak and some who can't?"

"This was the fourteenth century, angel. Listen, it's like this. If somebody had purple hair. And you married that person with purple hair, and had kids. And those kids were all guaranteed to have purple hair. And those kids married other people, and had kids who were all guaranteed to have purple hair...How long do you think it would take before everyone had purple hair, and all the people without purple hair had all died out?" Aziraphale thought.

"So...Parseltongue is just...snake-English, because somebody made his pet snake speak English?"

"Yep."

"But...parseltongue sounds nothing like English."

"Most people can't speak Parseltongue, so snakes just talk amongst themselves. The language doesn't sound like English because...it changed, over time. And with it being snakey English...not really all that surprising. But, on a word-for-word level, a lot of words sound similar to English. Except, as you might imagine, snakes can't exactly make all the sounds we do with our mouths."

"Oh yes, of course."

"Keep in mind, angel.  _ Nobody _ , in the history of  _ ever _ , who wasn't a parselmouth, has been able to learn parseltongue. You've got a steep uphill battle ahead of you."

"Yes, but...I want to learn. To be able to talk with you, and your father."

"Alright. I'll start with maybe hello and goodbye for today, and then you can practice."

"Alright."

"Alright then. Hello is 'heslo'. Except. Hissy and...snakey."

"Heslo."

"Yeah, except more...snakey."

"Hesssslo."

"Less...harsh. And...no actual voice behind it, like you're whispering. Here, maybe…" Crowley reached out and gently pinched both corners of Aziraphale's lips.

"Now try."

**_"Hello."_** Crowley's eyes went wide. 

"Amazing, angel! Good job!!"

"I did it?"

"Yeah, that was great! I mean, you sound like a human speaking parseltongue instead of a native parselmouth, but for a first effort that was great! Ready to try goodbye?"

"Yes, please!"

"Alright, goodbye is 'goodbai'. Except snakey and hissy and that."

"Goodbai."

"Nope. Still sounding too human. You are literally the snake, angel. Imagine you have a snake mouth, snake everything."

"Good...bai."

"It sounds like this:  **_'goodbye'_ ** ."

"Good...bai…" Crowley smiled, pinching Aziraphalw's lips again.

"Try now."

"Goobai." Crowley chuckled.

"Keep practicing. No place to go but up, angel."

***

It was late. Pitch black outside. Crowley found himself awake, and he opened his eyes to see his father stretched as far up the wall as he could, red garland in his mouth.

**_"...That's new."_ **

**_"Shh, go back to sleep, Crowley."_ **

**_"Whose idea was this?"_ **

**_"Go back to sleep, Crowley."_ **

**_"...Bunch of saps, the both of you."_ **


	8. Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I'm of the opinion that if one person has a question, a lot more people have the same question and just don't want to "look stupid" by asking, I've included a link here to the type of garland I was thinking of when I wrote this:  
> https://images.app.goo.gl/ft4BJwgguYhvgaiP6

Christmas rolled around the next morning. Aziraphale had been growing more and more miserable in the days leading up to it (assuming - correctly - that Crowley's family didn't celebrate Christmas and that he'd be missing Christmas altogether for the first time in his life) but when he woke on Christmas morning it was to a cheerful red garland decorating their room and leading out into the hall.

"Is that...for Christmas?"

"Yep. Dad came in and decorated last night."

"I...didn't realize you celebrated Christmas. You told me your mom wasn't big on festivities."

"She's not, but apparently the whole bloody family is soft for you."

"Crowley...This is too much, really, you don't have to change-"

"I might be getting presents because of you, Azirapahle, so shut up and let me enjoy it," Crowley quipped, grinning wider by the second. It was infectious and Aziraphale couldn't help but be caught up in it.

"Do you think they've put up a tree?"

"First one out in the living room gets to find out." They stared at eachother a second longer, then scrambled out of their beds, throwing the blankets off, pushing past eachother through the doorway and out to the living room. Crowley won, obviously, he was more accustomed to running on ground with a little bit of give to it than Aziraphale was. 

"YES!!" Crowley shouted from the living room, and Aziraphale darted around the corner to find that a massive green Christmas tree had indeed been set up, complete with stacks of presents in a whole host of red and green patterned wrapping paper. 

"Bea, this...you did all this for me?"

"Don't be ridiculous." She looked away, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms, and Mr. Crowley came to slither up her body, pressing his snout to her cheek. She bristled at the affection, but allowed it.

"You're the guest, angel, you open the first present." Aziraphale smiled, taking a present from under the tree.

"Are you going to reuse the wrapping, Bea?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Open it." Aziraphale did, and he gasped when he saw a plush snake, black on top and red on the bottom. It was as long as Aziraphale was, and it was an exact replica of Mr. Crowley.

"Oh my...this…"

"Your parents do not strike me as the most affectionate type. Since you have grown close to my husband I thought it might be a comfort to you to remember him when you are at home." Aziraphale smiled, hugging the plush close.

"Thank you, Bea, this is wonderful," he said, as Mr. Crowley slithered up onto Aziraphale's lap, hissing.

"Dad says: 'Don't forget the real one loves you more'." Aziraphale laughed.

"I won't forget," he said with a smile, and then, "Now you open one, Crowley."

 **_"It was fine for Aziraphale, but if Bea's gotten you a replica of me I will be extremely offended."_ **Crowley burst into a peal of laughter. Bea smiled ever so slightly, but when she caught Aziraphale staring she went back to her usual scowl. Aziraphale smiled, but obligingly looked away. Crowley grabbed a present and ripped off the wrapping with more fervour than Aziraphale had. 

"...Defensive...Spells...for the...Aspiring...Duelist," Crowley read slowly, "...This is amazing, mum!"

"I'm told you excel in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Yeah, this is great, thanks, mum!" Bea jerked her head in acknowledgement, picking up a present and tossing it towards Mr. Crowley, who reared up and caught it, settling back down. He ripped the wrapping with a fang, and Aziraphale and Crowley peeked at the box inside.

"A golden snitch," Aziraphale said, and Crowley grinned.

"Dad's gonna have a blast with that," he said, opening the box. The snitch sat, deceptively still, and Crowley took it in his hand. As soon as he picked it up, it unfurled its wings and began to flap, struggling to break free of Crowley's grip.

"What do the instructions say?" He asked, and Aziraphale pulled them from the box.

"The snitch will start to fly when it is first held. Release it, and it will continue to fly until it is caught, where it will stop until it is picked up again."

"I let this thing go, and off it goes?"

"That sounds about right, yes." Crowley smiled, and let the snitch go. Immediately it started whizzing up and about. Crowley and his father were both gazing with sharp eyes, following the snitch's every movement, but the second it started darting Aziraphale had lost it.

**_"Aziraphale can't see it. Humans must love this toy because of that. I imagine the intent is to find it?"_ **

**_"The intent is to find and catch it. Nearly impossible for humans, but it should be good fun for you."_ **

**_"Indeed."_ **Mr. Crowley's head whipped toward the hall, Crowley following suit. Aziraphale turned a second later, following their gazes and desperately scanning for any glimpse of it. It seemed to be on the edge of his vision constantly; he would see a glint of gold, but when his gaze focused on the spot it would be gone. 

**_"So sorry to miss the rest of the presents,"_ **Mr. Crowley hissed, slithering rapidly out of the room after the snitch.

"Oh, did the snitch leave the room?" Aziraphale asked.

"Yep. Dad's having a blast. He is a snake, and being a great big one rabbits don't exactly stretch his hunting muscles, as it were. Good to give him a challenge." 

"Yes, I imagine so. He looked very...focused. You both did. You could see it?"

"Yep. Snake eyes, I imagine. Dad says sorry he won't be around to watch us open the rest of the presents. Anyway, it's your turn next, angel. Pick a present." Aziraphale reached forward, grabbing the next present from under the tree. It was...poorly wrapped, to be polite, little more than a scrunched-up ball of wrapping paper. The name 'Bea' had been written in overlarge writing.

"Oh...Bea, this one's for you." Bea frowned at him. She took the present, inspecting it, then looked up at Crowley.

"Not me," Crowley said in response to her silent question, "I didn't know this was happening 'till last night. Dad's?" She shrugged, then carefully unscrunched the wrapping paper. A small gold heart pendant fell out. Bea stared at it.

"...It's hideous," she said. But she put it around her neck anyways.

In the end, Aziraphale got his plush, a spellbook, and a pink sweater that was far too big for him, no doubt Bea's first attempt at magical knitting.

"Use it as a blanket until you get older," Bea had said curtly. Aziraphale loved it. He knew he would treasure it forever.

Mr. Crowley came back in a few minutes later, looking happy as a clam with the snitch in his mouth. He deposited it gently into the box.

**_"Crafty little thing, that human toy. Fast. Good prey._ **

**_"Want to go again?"_ **

**_"Later, perhaps. Did you enjoy today?"_ **

**_"I did, yeah. We should do this again if Aziraphale comes back next Christmas."_ **

**_"...Perhaps we will."_ **


	9. Two Children

"Crowley...can I ask a question? It's...it's been bothering me for a while…" They were sitting in the living room. Crowley was sprawled on the ground, while Aziraphale had gathered a sizeable pile of soil into a makeshift cushion.

"Sure, angel, what's up?"

"Well, I was just wondering…What's a bluff strike?"

"It's an intimidation thing some snakes do. They hiss extra loud and strike you with their mouths closed. It's meant to scare you off, and it works most of the time."

"Does it hurt?"

"No, just really scary. Here, hang on, I'll have dad demonstrate." **_"Dad?"_** Mr. Crowley, perched lazily on a tree, slithered down.

**_"You called?"_ **

**_"Would you show Aziraphale what a bluff strike is? He's curious."_** He held up a hand as he spoke.

"Heads up, angel, this is probably gonna scare the pants off you." Aziraphale anxiously pulled his knees towards him as Mr. Crowley reared up. He lashed out, lightning-quick, and Aziraphale yelped as Mr. Crowley let out a hiss as loud as a dropped glass in a quiet room. The demonstration over, Mr. Crowley moved to rest near Aziraphale, comforting him. Crowley turned his hand towards him.

"See? Nothing. Just sound and a tap." Mr. Crowley bumped Aziraphale firmly. Aziraphale gasped, putting a hand to his shoulder, but there was nothing there.

"Oh. Just...nothing."

"Yep. Most potential predators think twice about coming back though."

"I don't see how someone as big as your father could have predators." 

"He doesn't, not really. Humans, though...they don't like snakes. Sometimes, before he met mum, he had to fight them off."

"That sounds awful."

"Yeah. He hasn't had to recently, though. Not since mum brought him back here. Nobody knows he's here. Mostly the bluff strike is for if anybody accidentally steps on him while he's burrowing. Get off him pretty quick when that happens."

"Well yes, I'd imagine so." 

***

Crowley woke in the middle of the night to a strange sound. It sounded like parseltongue, but he couldn't make out the words.

**_"...Dad?"_ **

"...Er, sorry Crowley, just me."

"Huh…?" Crowley rolled over, eyes still closed, "What are you doin' up? S'middle of the night."

"Yes, I know. I...just woke up to go to the bathroom. Had trouble seeing." There was a flicker of a smile on Crowley's face.

"Muttering to yourself?"

"Er, yes. Go back to sleep, Crowley, I'm sorry I woke you."

"Mmnight, angel."

"Goodnight, Crowley."

***

**_"Dad?"_ **

**_"Yes?"_ **

**_"Professor Snape wants me to get some of your shed skin for a potion I'm making after Christmas. Do you mind?"_ **

**_"Not at all. My next shed is just after you go back to school, I'll have your mother send it to you."_ **

**_"Thanks, dad."_ **

**_"Always."_ **

***

"Aziraphale. Do you have everything?"

"Yes."

"Crowley?"

"Yep."

"Alright, let's go." They turned towards the door, but then Aziraphale turned back.

"Wait! Mr. Crowley!" Mr. Crowley slithered up to him, pressing his snout gently against his cheek before dropping back to the ground.

"No, wait…" Aziraphale's face screwed up like he was struggling with a particularly difficult puzzle. His mouth opened and closed several times, and Mr. Crowley waited, head cocked to the side in confusion.

**_"...Goodbye."_ ** Bea stared at him, her eyebrows raised. On her face, that was a look of utter stupefication. Crowey grinned. 

Mr. Crowley wrapped himself around Aziraphale so suddenly that Aziraphale gasped, staggered, and fell into the dirt. Mr. Crowley outright nuzzled Aziraphale, and Aziraphale laughed and held him close.

**_"Goodbye, Aziraphale,"_ ** Mr. Crowley said.

"He said goodbye! I heard him! I understood!"

"He said goodbye," Crowley confirmed, grinning like an idiot.

"We need to go," Bea said, not unkindly.

**_"Dad, let him up, we're going to be late."_ **

**_"I have two children,"_ ** Mr. Crowley said as he unwound himself from Aziraphale,  **_"The humans he lives with are just his guardians. Aziraphale is my son, not theirs."_ **


	10. New Potion

Apparating to King's Cross instead of from it was especially harrowing, because there were passersby to see him when he staggered. They shot him indulgently pitying glances, and Aziraphale forced himself to keep his eyes on Crowley, who gazed worriedly at him until the queasiness had cleared from his expression.

"...I'm alright now," he said, and Crowley smiled as Bea gestured them towards the gate. They passed through, and Bea nodded to them as they boarded the train.

"Study hard this year, the both of you."

"Yes, Bea."

"Yep." They waved, and Bea nodded then turned and left.

***

Professor Snape had said they would work on the snake skin potion immediately after Christmas, but agreed to put it off, as there was no helping the fact that Mr. Crowley's shed wasn't coming up until a few weeks. In the meantime, they reviewed the mild sleeping potion Crowley had learned earlier, and worked on an antidote to a simple poison. 

"How will brewing potions help me in the world, anyway?" Crowley asked one day.

"You can get a job as a teacher, like me, you can get a job as a potions brewer, open a business selling potions, become a merchant, there are limitless opportunities in potions. You could make money right now selling that simple sleeping potion you learned earlier to anyone who needs help sleeping. If you are willing to take calls in the early hours of the morning, even better. Anyone unable to sleep in the middle of the night will come to you while your competitors are sleeping. In addition, confection makers use potions in their candies to enchant them. This usually includes an impotent version of that love potion you learned to make customers feel especially happy when they eat their chocolates. You can be their supplier. If you continue your studies in potions, you could become an author of potions books. Perhaps one day I might see 'A Beginner's Guide to Potions By Anthony J. Crowley'. Perhaps I'll even use it as a textbook for first or second years." Crowley smiled at the idea.

"You see, plenty of opportunity, if you know where to look."

"You think I could write a book?"

"I don't see why not. You are a bit slow as a reader, but your writing skills are unaffected, so there should be no problem. I take it you'd like to pursue becoming an author?"

"Yeah, actually, that sounds great."

"Very well, then. Until your father's shed arrives, your homework will be to write down the instructions for the sleeping potion. I will attempt to brew the potion based solely on what you have written. The mark of a good author is one who can explain the necessary steps to others. If you have tips to guarantee success, so much the better.

"Can people invent new potions?"

"Certainly. Experimentation is extremely dangerous and requires considerable knowledge of ingredients, their properties, and how they react, but it is doable. New potions are being invented all the time. I will loan you a book for further reading."

"Thanks, professor."

"Remember. If you brew a potion, you will also need its equivalent antidote."

"Yes, professor."

"And, Mr. Crowley? You will be glad to know that your...affinity for potions has...perhaps...prompted me to reconsider my stance on clubs. Students as gifted as you should have the opportunity to expand their talents. I very rarely have students so gifted, but...if the opportunity presents itself, I will consider the possibility."

"Thanks, professor."

"Goodnight, Mr. Crowley."

"Goodnight, professor."

***

Crowley's father's shed skin came in a package in the post a few weeks later, complete with a short note in parseltongue-English gibberish. It read:

With love, dad.

***

"Welcome, Mr. Crowley. Is that the required shed?"

"Yes, professor. Came in three days ago."

"Very well, then, hand it here." Professor Snape unwrapped the parcel with extreme care, lifting the shed and examining it as though it were the finest lace.

"Your father no doubt took great care when producing this. It is extremely high quality. And you have done well to keep it untouched for those three days."

"Thank you, professor."

"This will be sufficient to make about a year's worth of the potion. Excellent."

"What kind of potion needs snakeskin?"

"The kind that allows one to transfigure a snake into a human. Your mother was a gifted student, Mr. Crowley, this potion was one of her inventions. Even as a child she was fascinated by snakes. Now. Here is the list of ingredients. Fetch them from my storeroom and we will begin."

"Yes, sir."

***

"Good." 

"What next?"

"We wait. The potion needs to simmer for two days."

"...How do people figure out how long potions need to simmer for to work?"

"Considerable trial and error, Mr. Crowley, inventing potions is a long and tedious process."

"Oh."

"You will need to return on Thursday after your classes."

"Yes, sir."

"Goodnight, Mr. Crowley."

"Goodnight, Professor."

***

"I guess I know now how mom turned dad into a human."

"Oh? How's that?"

"She invented a potion. Professor Snape's got me making the exact same potion now."

"Is that so? How interesting...She invented a potion?"

"Yep. With 'considerable trial and error', apparently."

"Wow...Why are you learning to make that potion, then? Just so you'll know it?"

"Probably. Maybe just in case mom gets sick and I need to bring dad along grocery shopping or something. You know people freak out if they see a kid alone."

"...I imagine they would, but I've never been alone."

"Mum used to send me for groceries and potions and things all the time. Stopped because people kept asking me where my mummy was and complaining to Bea that I was too young to walk to the store and back. That's why she learned how to plant a garden. Anything we want to eat is right in our back yard now."

"...You don't eat meat? But...we ate meat all the time! Supper that one day was- oh."

"Rabbit. We have a very good hunter in our family, angel. Rabbit, deer, squirrel...Dad brought home an elk once. Had elk meat every day for months, it was great. At least until I got bored of elk meat and we still had six months' worth left. Anyway, mom probably thinks it'll be a good idea to have an extra human in the family if I'm going to be in the human world. Or, Snape's teaching it to me just because it was mom's potion. I need to go back on Thursday after my classes. And then we'll see."


	11. Completed Potion

“Welcome back, Mr. Crowley. What do you see?”

“The potion’s different, it’s clear now. And there’s less of it, only about enough for...one vial. All that and only one vial full?”

“Yes. It is almost ready. Once it has cooled to room temperature, it will become effective. Another hour and you could give this to your father and watch him become a human before your very eyes.”

“But how…?”

“Are you about to ask me a question to which the answer is ‘considerable trial and error’, Mr. Crowley?”

“Er...I guess so, yes. But...What happens if you give the potion to a snake before it’s cool? Does the snake die?”

“No, the potion would simply be ineffective. Once you have sufficient knowledge in the realm of experimentation, you know better than to attempt to test a potion on a live subject if there is a potential for things to go sour. Again, there are spells to test this sort of thing. I believe they were invented around Merlin’s time, when many people were dying from experimental potions.”

“...How do you invent spells?”

“With knowledge of the Latin language and a wand. Can we continue?”

“Right, sorry, professor.”

“...I understand you and Mr. Fell have become quite close?”

“Er...yes?”

“Mr. Fell is not naturally gifted in potions as you are, but he is an extremely studious boy and that, combined with the drive to learn when he does not understand, makes him, at least, not a complete disaster in the potions classroom. My point, Mr. Crowley, is that Mr. Fell is an extremely bookish student, and almost all of your questions could be answered with a few minutes spent perusing the school’s extensive library. It would do you some good to accompany him on his next study session.”

“Yes, professor.”

“Now. Back to this potion. The effects of the potion wear off after about a day.”

“But-”

“Are you about to ask me a question to which the answer is ‘considerable trial and error’, Mr. Crowley?”

“No, actually.”

“Continue.”

“You said I had enough shed for a year’s supply of potions. How can that be if I’d need to give dad a new dose every day?”

“Would you like to divide your father’s shed into three hundred and sixty-five pieces right now, or will you simply take my word for it?”

“...I’ll take your word for it.”

“Good.”

“So we wait for an hour for it to cool down?”

“No, we pour it into a flask, you take it back to your dorm, and you do not attempt to turn any snakes into humans until it has cooled to room temperature.”

“I get to keep this one?”

“Yes. And the next one. And the one after that. We will practice this potion until you have perfected it.”

“...Why? I won’t need to turn dad into a human anytime soon-”

“Because your mother believes in passing down a tradition from parent to child. She has no homemade roast recipes to share with you, but she invented this potion. This is what she intends to pass down from parent to child, and she was adamant that the knowledge of how to make this potion not be lost.”

“...But why? Mom knows it, so-”

“As I just said, she believes in a tradition passed down from parent to child. It was convenient for her to have you learn it while doing additional potions lessons.”

“...Okay?”

“You understand what a tradition is, Mr. Crowley?”

“Yeah, something people do year after year.”

“Some things cannot be learned through books, they must be passed on from one person to another, do you agree?”

“Yeah, of course. Like cooking and things.”

“Exactly. Currently, there are two people in the world who can brew this potion: your mother, and myself. It was her wish that you be taught as well. Perhaps, if you so choose, you may publish it in that book of yours.”

“But why does she want me learning it now?”

“She wants you to be able to brew the potion from memory.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“On the contrary, that answers it perfectly. You brewed the potion, did you not?”

“Yes?”

“Was it difficult?”

“Yes?”

“Did I have to correct you a considerable number of times so that you would not melt a hole in my floor?”

“...Yes.”

“That is nothing to be ashamed of for this potion, Mr. Crowley, it is incredibly complex. In fact, the complexity of this potion is exactly my point.”

“...How so?”

“The potion is complex?”

“Yes?”

“How long, then, do you think it will take for you to be able to master this potion, to remember the ingredients, the proportions, the steps, the timing, and brew it from memory, with no guidance and no mistakes?” Crowley fell silent.

“...Better to start while you are young and have an improved capacity for memory, yes?”

“...Fair point.”

“Exactly. We will continue practicing this potion until I am satisfied that you have mastered it. When I am satisfied, your mother will be satisfied. Understand?”

“Yes, professor.”


	12. Redacted

“So, that potion of yours, how did it turn out?”

"Came out nice. I’ll bring it home to mum over the break. She always keeps a store of the stuff, even if she never uses it.”

“Oh, did I tell you I was going home over spring break?”

“No, you didn’t. Did your parents not have any business trips or anything?”

“They did, but I did what you said and asked to be able to come home as my Christmas present, and it worked. I knew it would. They’ve never denied me any Christmas present, ever. So I am going home.”

“I’m glad for you, angel. Even if I do still think your parents would be better off as singing teapots." Aziraphale smiled. 

***

Crowley alternated making his mother's potion and writing instructions for various simpler potions. Snape watched him closely the whole time, encouraging him to study the recipe and try to make the potion himself. Crowley was miserable at it, he couldn't remember all the steps, but Snape wasn't expecting him to, so there wasn't much pressure. He did improve. There was a noticeably longer stretch of silence in each successive class, which meant Snape wasn't correcting him as much.

***

And so spring break came, and they parted ways at the train station. Crowley's mother was there to pick him up, silently nodding to him. It was almost the same as last time. Aziraphale ran into his parents' arms, then asked permission to say goodbye to Crowley.

"See you after break, angel."

"Aziraphale."

"Yes, Bea?"

"...It was a joy having you at our house. And you are always welcome back."

"Thank you, Bea. I'm always happy to come over." She nodded at him, then gestured to Crowley.

"Let's go home."

"Yep. See you soon, angel."

"See you later, Crowley." Aziraphale went back to his parents, and Crowley watched as they vanished from sight. Bea nodded, and she and Crowley turned and began to walk home.

She held out her hand for them to apparate silently. They walked back home, and his father was all over him in a heartbeat.

**_"Hello to you too, dad."_ **

**_"I missed you."_ ** His mother was walking away, and Crowley remembered his potion.

"Oh, hang on, mum, wait!" She paused, turning around to look at him as he opened his trunk there in the entryway and began rummaging inside. Finally he pulled out the few small vials of clear potion that he had made.

"It's your transfiguration potion. I made them in school with Professor Snape. Figured we could keep them in the store with the others?" Bea took one of the potions, inspecting it carefully.

"...This is beautifully done," she said finally in a rare compliment, "You didn't make them yourself."

"No, Snape was watching me the whole time, but one of them he only needed to tell me what to do six times or so. We've been spacing it out with teaching me how to write a book - I was thinking about becoming a potions author - but Snape says we're going to keep working on this until I can get it right and make it all by myself."

"Good." She held her hand out for the potions, and Crowley gave them over. Then she turned and walked away to put them in their potions storeroom. Crowley closed his trunk, and his father was on him again.

**_"Those were beautiful, Crowley. Well done."_ **

**_"Thanks, Dad."_ **

**_"No Aziraphale this time...too bad."_ **

**_"He asked his parents to be able to come home over the spring break. They've not said no to a Christmas present yet."_ **

**_"They certainly love to give him gifts."_ **

**_"Yeah...They didn't even want him. Aziraphale told me his parents only had him because they were getting pressure from people at work. His parents don't love eachother, they only got married to improve their reputation and social standing. They had Aziraphale for the same reason."_ **

**_"Such a sad thing, for a child to be unloved by his own parents. Hopefully Aziraphale will come to see me as his father, with time."_ **

**_"I'd like having him around."_ **

**_"As would I."_ **

***

_ Madam Fell, _

_ I am writing this letter to you to request that Aziraphale be allowed to come stay with us over the summer break. As I am well aware, however, that Anthony and Azirahale do not keep secrets from eachother, I must ask first for your word that you will not tell Aziraphale what I am about to tell you, as I do not want my son to find out. _

_ Beatrice Crowley _

_ *** _

_ Madam Crowley, _

_ First and foremost, I have no problems letting Aziraphale stay with you over the summer. _

_ As an auror, and a high-ranking official in the ministry, I am acutely aware of the need to keep secrets, and, if I do say so myself, am remarkably good at keeping them. You have my word that your next letter will be read in private, burned, and securely disposed of. Aziraphale, and therefore your son, will not find out its contents. Would you also prefer that I keep this from my husband Gabriel, as well? _

_ Uriel Fell _

_ *** _

_ Madam Fell, _

_ I do not mind your husband knowing, so long as you firmly believe he will not let this slip to Aziraphale. _

_ _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ _

_ Beatrice Crowley. _


	13. Questions About Potions

"Mother, what are you burning?"

"An important government document. For my eyes only."

"Oh, alright. ...Mother?"

"Yes?"

"If it was for your eyes only, wouldn't it have been better to tell you in person, so there was no chance of it being intercepted?"

"Sometimes circumstances prevent face to face meetings. You'll understand when you're older. Are you ready for bed?"

"Yes, mother."

"Alright. Goodnight, Aziraphale."

"Goodnight, mother."

***

"You never go to check on him," Gabriel said to Uriel.

"I needed to make sure he was asleep. We need to talk. Aziraphale is going to the Crowleys' over the summer break."

"Oh?"

***

"What a shame." Gabriel sat, his face deep in thought.

"One other thing."

"Hm?"

"When we next see Aziraphale, after the summer break...perhaps we should pretend for him, for a while."

"You hate that lovey-dovey stuff."

"He's going to need it. Perhaps we won't lay it on overly thick, but he should get something."

"Yes, you're right. You understand him more than I do."

"I understand  _ people _ more than you do, there's a difference."

***

"Crowley?"

"...Yeah mom?"

"Tell me about school."

"What do you want to know?"

"Whatever you want to tell."

"Well...School's okay. Aziraphale and I don't share many classes, which is rough. But we meet in the room of requirement." 

"Yes, I used to make all my potions there."

"Did you invent your transfiguration potion there?"

"I started it in school, but I finished it well after. I'm glad it was finished by the time I met your father. You said you wanted to be a potions author?"

"Yeah. I want to make textbooks and stuff for kids, but I also kind of want to make up a new potion, like you did. I've started going to the library to research with Aziraphale. Snape's getting tired of me asking so many questions, but he never refuses to answer. I think maybe he's glad he found someone who likes potions as much as he does."

"If Severus is the same as he was when I was in school, he would murder you if he knew you had said that." Crowley snorted.

"Oh yeah, definitely. But, there's something else too. Aziraphale's been trying to learn parseltongue...and I'm wondering if I could write a book to teach him from. He's probably never going to be fluent like me and dad, but he'll be able to say something. More, with a book. Maybe I'll even publish the book, for if anyone wants to learn, but probably not."

"Yes. If Aziraphale is going to live here, parseltongue can only help him."

"...Think Snape's invented his own potions?"

"He has invented several. Many of the potions you will learn in later years are his inventions. He doesn't brag, but you will find his name attributed to the potion in your textbook."

"Maybe one day you'll see "Anthony J. Crowley in small print in my textbooks."

"I've no doubt you will invent a remarkable potion. Best to start early. Any ideas for the kind of potion you want to invent?"

"Well, I was thinking about the draught of living death. What if it could be used to...like...if the body was asleep...but the spirit could still walk around? Like if you needed to talk to someone in America and didn't have a way there, you could hop out of your body and just...go."

"An intriguing concept. The draught of living death, however, is a potent poison. It is more likely the potion you create will force the drinker to watch themselves die. But. You will need an antidote first. And remember, the antidote would need to the administered to the body, as spirits can't drink. Come up with an antidote first. Then invent the poison."

"Got it."

"Coincidentally speaking, the draught of living death is one of Snape's inventions. If you want to know more about how to adapt it to your purposes, speak to him."

"Got it."


	14. Fifth Birthday

Crowley woke to go get himself a glass of water in the middle of the night. He saw his mother already in the kitchen, and she seemed to be drinking something.

"What's that, mum?"

"...It's a potion to make me tired. What do you need, Crowley?"

"I wanted water. Why are you calling me Crowley now? You always just called me Anthony before."

"You hate Anthony."

"You never cared."

"Your father convinced me. If it's that much of a problem I'll call you Anthony."

"No, no, I like Crowley, just...was wondering."

"Fine. Take your water and go back to bed."

"Right. ...You okay, mum?"

"Tired, Crowley. I can't sleep, and I'm irritated. Go back to sleep."

"Right."

***

Crowley met up with Aziraphale at the train station. Aziraphale was talking with his parents, and he looked dejected. He brightened somewhat when he saw Crowley, but the clouds didn't entirely clear from his expression.

"Hello, Crowley."

"What's up, angel?"

"Mom says I'm staying with you over the summer. At least I got warning this time." Always glad for the warning. Glad he wouldn't be getting a repeat of last Christmas. 

"Did she say why? Another business trip?"

"She didn't say, but it must be something like that. Or like...well, what happened on my fifth birthday." Aziraphale caught Bea nodding at his parents. He turned to look, but they were already walking away.

"What happened on your fifth birthday? And what are you looking at?"

"It looked like...nevermind. And we'll talk about it on the train, okay?"

"...Well, mom and I are always glad to have you."

"I know you are."

"People are staring." Bea was looking around.

"Staring?" Crowley looked around too.

"Nevermind. Let's hug, just so they'll stop."

"Ugh, people."

"I agree." She pulled Crowley into her arms, patting him twice on the back. Then she did the same for Aziraphale, and Crowley, who had long since learned to look away if his mother accidentally slipped and showed emotion, became very interested in the train when Aziraphale squeezed her tightly and she smiled.

"Goodbye, Crowley. Goodbye, Aziraphale."

"Goodbye, Bea!"

"Bye, mom." She nodded, then turned and left.

"...Come on, angel, before the train leaves without us."

***

Once on the train, Aziraphale subtly checked the corridor before closing and locking the door to their compartment.

"So," he began in a voice no louder than a murmur, "On my fifth birthday, my parents sent me to stay with a neighbour. I stayed overnight. Two days later, a man was in our house. He congratulated my parents on getting some info out of somebody, and said the man they'd questioned was never going to be the same again with how much they'd tortured him. My mother shushed him right away, but I was around the corner and I heard everything. My parents sent me away on my birthday so they could torture someone. They think I didn't hear anything from that talk, and I haven't told them, but…And then a week later the paper said a famous criminal was in St. Mungo's for mental instability. There were allegations of torture. I asked my mom what allegations meant, and I knew it was that man they'd tortured."

"...What  _ does  _ 'allegations' mean?"

"Oh, like...rumours and stuff. Hints. People were accusing the ministry of torturing that man to madness. They denied it of course, but considering a very important man had congratulated my parents for torturing a man to madness just a few days before that article came out…"

"...Remind me again how you can say your parents aren't bastards?"

"Well, he was a criminal, they needed the information. I-I'm sure they feel very sorry about it…"

"I'm sorry. They tortured a man in your house. And you're just...okay with it?"

"I'm not  _ okay with it _ ," Aziraphale retorted, "just…Sometimes they have to do bad things to keep people safe. To keep me safe." Crowley heaved a sigh. And then another.

"...I love my parents, Crowley. They're...they're my parents…"

"I know. I know you do. And it's not wrong for you to love them, just...you can love your parents and admit they're bastards."

"But...they're not…They're good, deep down."

"Have you seen that goodness for yourself? When you weren't in public or somewhere else they had to pretend to be perfect?"

"...Well...I...Maybe...maybe they don't love me, and-and maybe they hurt people, but...they're...they're...they're good people. They catch bad wizards, and they help the minister, and they go to work every day and keep important secrets to keep the world safe. That...that makes them good people, doesn't it?"

"That makes them a force of good. That doesn't make them good people."

"It's the same thing, Crowley. People who are mean can still be good people."

"It's not...it's not the same thing. J- ugh, nevermind. Believe what you want. Even you can only take so much shit before you snap, anyway." He fell silent for a minute. When he spoke again, his tone was much softer.

"Just...I promise I'll be there, angel. When that day comes. I'll be there to pick you up. Promise."

"It won't come, Crowley."

"...The longer you keep believing your parents' lies, the more it's going to hurt when it all falls apart. But it's okay. I...I think I see now that I can't...I can't make it go any faster. You have to get there in your own time."

"...I suppose we'll agree to disagree on this one."

"I suppose we will."


	15. The "Cripple Friend"

Crowley started noticing...looks. Not from students, but from teachers. When they thought he wasn't looking, they'd shoot him a second glance. They were especially...kind, to him too. Not nice-nice, but...they seemed to not have the heart to snap at him anymore. It was weird.

"Have you noticed the teachers treating me weird, angel?"

"I have, actually. It's probably my parents, I wouldn't worry too much about it."

"Your parents? What would  _ your  _ parents have to do with it?"

"They probably have it in their heads that it makes me upset to see you getting scolded all the time. If they sent a letter to the teachers...Well, they'll have made you out to be a poor little cripple - dad's words, not mine - who acts out because he just needs somebody to love him in this cruel, cruel world, and I'm loving him and it makes me so upset to see my poor cripple friend getting picked on, so if they could maybe be a little nicer and have pity on him, because he doesn't mean it, he's just lonely, you know how kids act out when they just want attention, and - stop  _ laughing _ , Crowley!"

But Crowley couldn't stop laughing, in fact, the moment Aziraphale brought attention to it he outright howled, doubling over and wiping tears from his eyes.

" _ Cripple friend! _ " He gasped before bursting into another peal of laughter, "Oh, that's great!" 

"It's not  _ funny _ , Crowley, they shouldn't treat you differently because you have sensitive eyes...Or, well, they think you have sensitive eyes, you know what I mean... _ really _ , Crowley, I don't see what's so  _ funny _ !"

"Cripple!" He gasped again, "They think I'm a  _ cripple _ !" 

"Again, I really don't see-"

"Your parents are so damn...think they're better than everyone else!"

"And that's...funny?" 

"That's hilarious!"

"Because…?" But Crowley held up a finger, so Aziraphale sighed and waited patiently until he'd chuckled himself back to normal again.

"Oh, that's great...Aha….Okay, I'm gonna try to explain this...Okay, so. Your parents think they're better than everyone else."

"Okay..?"

"But it's not nice to think you're better than everyone else, right? You said so yourself."

"Well, yes. You should treat everyone with respect, and nobody is really better or worse than anyone else just because somebody's rich or poor or things like that, we're all people and we all deserve respect."

"Exactly, my point is it's wrong to think you're better than everyone else. So, how do you think you're better than everyone else without  _ saying  _ you're better than everyone else?" Aziraphale shrugged.

"...You take any stupid excuse to make other people less than you. It's not that you're better, you're normal, and they're less than normal. So they heard that I had sensitive eyes, and they jumped on the chance to make me less than normal, so they could act holier than thou in the only way that's socially acceptable.

"...Pitying disabled people," Aziraphale finished, "But I still don't see how it's funny."

"Because you're so desperate to be better than everyone else that you take a minor issue like sensitive eyes and treat it like I'm permanently crippled."

"...So...it's funny because...it shows…?"

"How sad and pathetic and desperate your parents are to find proof that they're better than everyone else. So they took my sensitive eyes and held it up like evidence, yelling 'look! I'm better than this  _ twelve year old boy _ ! See, he has sensitive eyes and I don't, so I'm better than him!" And then they went out of their way to tell all the teachers here that they were better than me, by making it sound like they wanted the teachers to be nice to me when it was really them using my sensitive eyes to show I'm 'less than normal' and need 'special considerations'. But all it really did was show how dumb they are, because they needed me to have sensitive eyes to think they're better than me, instead of...just the fact that they're older."

"...I don't think I'm ever going to get it," Aziraphale finally said with a sigh, "It's not nice for them to treat you like this, Crowley."

"Course it's not, but it's just funny that your parents went so far out of their way to tell everyone I was a 'poor cripple boy' when it's just sensitive eyes. Your parents are sad and pathetic...and everyone else is just eating it up and doing what they ask because your parents are important. ...Your parents haven't pulled that 'poor cripple boy' thing on  _ you _ , have they?"

"...Why do you think that cold hit me as hard as it did? I never get sick, because the one time I did all the neighbours were crying over me like I was dying." Crowley grinned.

"Awwww, does poor Azira-kins have the  _ sniffles _ ?" 

"Crowley, if you talk to me like that again I  _ will _ hex you."

***

“By the way, Crowley, I did learn a warming spell. It makes hot air come out of the wand to warm things up. I’m sure I could use it on your father...once I’ve mastered it. It’s...the wand movement is hard to get down.”

“I’m sure you’ll get it, angel. There hasn’t been a charm you  _ haven’t  _ perfected. Oh, by the way, I heard from Professor Snape that if you know a lot of Latin you can make up your own spells.”

“Yes, I heard. The Minister for Magic invented a new spell just last week. It turns water pink.”

“...And…?”

“That’s it. It turns water pink.”

“...Why do we need a spell like that?”

“Well...I don’t know. But the Minister for Magic is always strange like that. Dad called her eclectic once.”

“Doesn’t that mean weird? I didn’t think they’d speak ill of the minister.”

“Eclectic is the nice version of eccentric. They were calling her different. But you’re right, mom and dad would never say anything bad about the minister. She gets a lot of criticism, but somehow things always turn out alright in the end.”

“I never cared much for politics. Mom says it’s a different face, but more of the same.”

“Well...I can see her point. But mum and dad say the minister has a very important job. I’m just...not entirely clear what. But she does important stuff, making new laws and stuff.”

“Like I said, I don’t care much for that sort of thing.”

“...Neither do I, to be honest. Mom says I’ll understand better when I’m older.”


	16. Sick Stomach

The Minister for Magic is indeed a very eclectic woman, for many reasons. For starters, nobody, absolutely nobody knows what she looks like. She works from her office, and sends another in her stead. The minister's connection to the outside world is a woman named Madame Alphonse. She attends all meetings, signs all official documents, and, in short, takes care of any and all business where the minister would be required to be in the presence of another. She is also the only person alive - with, perhaps, the exception of any family the minister may have - to see her. Nobody has succeeded in taking any photos of her for this reason. The reason for all the secrecy is that the minister is, in a word, superstitious. Or at least, she attributes too much sentience to things that have none.

In short, she fundamentally disagrees with the idea of living portraits. To be alive yet trapped in a painting is the worst kind of torture, and she will not allow any pictures of herself to suffer the same fate. She tolerates the ones at Hogwarts only because there are so many that the portraits' subjects are free to wander the entirety of Hogwarts freely.

Because of all the secrecy and her seemingly laissez-faire attitude toward governing, she has been heavily criticized as unfit for government. However, as Aziraphale said, she makes sure that everything turns out alright in the end.

***

"You haven't touched your food, angel." Crowley had come over to the Hufflepuff table after dinner to find Aziraphale was still at the table with a full plate of food. Well, a barely-half-full plate of food that hadn't been touched.

"I know…"

"Feeling alright?"

"Well...my stomach feels...not sick, but...sensitive. I don't want to eat anything that might upset it."

"Want to turn in early tonight instead of practicing with that petrification curse?"

"...Could we? Would that be alright?" 

"Always. You rest and feel better, alright?"

***

As Crowley was walking to transfiguration, a little bird swooped down from the ceiling, perching itself on Crowley's shoulder, where the spell wore off and it fell to the ground. Crowley picked it up.

_ Crowley _

_ Could you tell Professor McGonagall I won't be in transfiguration today? My stomach's still not feeling well, and I wanted to see if Madam Pomfrey could help, but she's insisting I stay overnight. Thank you, and come visit me later, if you can. _

_ Aziraphale _

_ P.S. About the bird...I won't tell if you won't. _

Crowley smiled. Somehow he knew that Aziraphale would find a way to send a paper bird as a note. He walked to transfiguration, told McGonagall that Aziraphale would be absent, then turned and started to walk out.

"And where are you going, Mr. Crowley?"

"To see Aziraphale, obviously."

"Do you expect him to be dying by the time you arrive?"

"No, but-"

"Will your presence now as opposed to an hour from now make any difference to his condition?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Is Mr. Fell going to be so lonely without you by his side that he could not wait one hour when he knows full well you have transfiguration and will not be expecting you until an hour from now?"

"I...well...but…"

"I understand you are worried, Mr. Crowley, but Mr. Fell is in good hands. The best hands, if you ask me. He can live without you for an hour, you do not need to rush to his side for every bruised knee."

"I hardly rush to his side for every-"

"My point, Mr. Crowley, is that Mr. Fell can wait until transfiguration is over. Besides, what if he intends to try to rest? Would it not be better to attend transfiguration, and then go to him to find him sound asleep? That would be best for him, wouldn't it?" Crowley stood in the doorway, silent, for twenty seconds or more, before he finally heaved a heavy sigh and slumped into his seat.

"...Thank you, Mr. Crowley."

Midway through transfiguration McGonagall sent a note out of the classroom. This was a fairly common happening in a magical school, and so it never occurred to Crowley that McGonagall was sending a note politely asking if Madam Pomfrey would be so kind as to give Aziraphale a sleeping potion so that her argument would be validated and she might actually keep Crowley in class in case Aziraphale's sudden illness persisted.

***

When Crowley arrived at the hospital wing an hour later, Aziraphale was indeed sleeping, but he appeared fitful, clutching at the blankets. Madam Pomfrey was fussing over him, waving her wand and muttering every healing spell she knew, to seemingly no avail.

"Is that normal?" Crowley asked.

"I gave him a potion for dreamless sleep, does it look like he's sleeping dreamlessly to you?" She snapped at him. Crowley sat in the chair, gently took Aziraphale's hand and didn't say anything else. Miraculously, Aziraphale seemed to relax the moment Crowley took his hand. It wasn't quite perfect, but it was a considerable improvement.

"Well, I'll be…" Madam Pomfrey said to herself, and then "...Consider yourself excused from tomorrow's classes, Mr. Crowley."

"Sweet! Er...Glad I'm helping. Sweet of you to let me stay. And help. You know. Glad to miss classes if I can help him get better." Madam Pomfrey only rolled her eyes.

***

Aziraphale's condition only got worse as the days went by. He was released from the hospital wing because Madam Pomfrey couldn't do anything, and it wasn't infectious in any way. Still, Madam Pomfrey wrote a letter to Aziraphale's parents, asking if anything of the sort had happened before. She was told that it had happened twice before, once when he was seven and once when he was ten. It had increased in severity then gone away on its own suddenly both times, so Madam Pomfrey was advised to simply wait it out, a message which she conveyed to Aziraphale reluctantly. She apologized for not being able to do more.

Aziraphale went to his classes, and did his homework, and kept his grades up, but his stomach pain never went away. More often than not he simply laid his head on his desk and listened passively in his classes. Crowley, where possible, held Aziraphale's hand, because for whatever reason that seemed to keep the pain at bay.


	17. At the Train Station

Finally, the time came for them to go home. They boarded the train, as usual. Aziraphale slept, citing the upset stomach that had been plaguing him. Well...he didn't sleep, he was shifting too much for that, but he definitely tried. Crowley shushed him and let him lean on his shoulder and even tried singing to him, but nothing helped. Finally they settled on Aziraphale lying his head in Crowley's lap and cuddling the plush of Crowley's father. Even Crowley's presence did little to help now, a fact that upset Crowley more than he cared to admit. Crowley nodded off at some point, and Aziraphale kept as still as he could.

***

When they got off the train, Crowley looked around for his mother, frowning when he didn't see her.

"Is...is she not here?" Aziraphale asked weakly.

"Probably running late or something. We'll just stay here until she shows up."

**_"Crowley."_ ** Crowley whirled, coming face to face with a man in his mid-forties, with dark sunglasses on and long red hair that had the front part pulled back with a clip. Crowley stared.

"Excuse me, who are you and how do you know my name?" The man stared at him, head tilted, uncomprehending.

**_"...I know I look different, but do you really not recognize your father's voice?"_ **

"Crowley, who is this?"

"He...says he's my dad."

"...That's not possible, Crowley." The man turned his attention to Aziraphale when he spoke.

**_"Hello, Aziraphale."_ ** Aziraphale's eyes widened.

"He...speaks parseltongue?" Crowley was at a loss for words.

**_"Do you need more convincing? Very well, when you were a small child I would wrap you up in my coils, and let you climb all over me. You were obsessed with sitting on top of my head for some reason. You kept falling, and I kept catching you, and you would pick yourself up and start again."_ ** Crowley stared.

"...Dad?"

"Crowley, that's not your father, your father is…"

"I know, but...he knows I liked to climb all over him when I was a kid." Aziraphale seemed incapable of arguing further, closing his eyes and clenching his jaw. The man licked his lips, a movement that would have been natural if Crowley hadn't known snakes smelled with their tongues. He knelt down in front of Aziraphale, putting his hands on his cheeks, staring at him.

**_"Aziraphale is unwell."_ **

**_"Dad...how...I mean, the potion, obviously, but why? Where's mom?"_ **

**_"She sent me to pick you up. We'll talk further when we get home. Why is Aziraphale unwell?"_ **

**_"We...don't know. It started a few weeks ago and it's been getting worse and worse. His parents say it goes away on its own eventually, and Madam Pomfrey couldn't do anything to help him. I...It helps him when I'm nearby, or, it used to, but that's all we know."_ **

**_"What an awful time for him to get sick…"_ **

**_"It's fine, we'll just let him sleep it off when we get home. How_ ** **_are_ ** **_we getting home? You don't know how to apparate, you can't."_ **

**_"We'll get home by the Knight Bus. Follow me."_ ** The man, clearly Mr. Crowley, started walking away.

"Come on, angel. Let's follow him."

"Is that...your dad?"

"Yep. Took that potion I told you about."

"But why? It…" Aziraphale fell silent, closing his eyes, breathing carefully, and visibly biting back a groan of pain, and Crowley took his hand and kept leading him while his eyes were closed.

"Don't worry about it, angel. Dad'll take us home, we'll get you to bed, and tomorrow we'll have a perfectly reasonable explanation for this mess. Just relax, Aziraphale, don't stress yourself too much."

"It doesn't…" Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut, just barely holding back another moan of pain, "Doesn't seem to matter whether I'm relaxed or...or not. Crowley, I…"

"I know, angel, it's alright." They walked through the gate, out of the station and to the street.

**_"Wave your wand, Crowley."_ **

**_"...What?"_ **

**_"Wave your wand. As though you were waving for one of these cars to stop."_ ** Crowley frowned, but did as told. Immediately a loud honking filled the air, and a massive purple bus screeched to a stop right in front of them. The doors opened, and Mr. Crowley gestured to his son to climb aboard first.

"Welcome aboard the Knight Bus," a bored-looking young woman said, "Transportation for the stranded witch or wizard. Tickets, please?"

"We don't have-" but Mr. Crowley had already handed over three slips of paper.

"Where to?"

"Erm...outskirts of London. East side. McIntire Road."

"Outskirts of London, East side, McIntire road. Thank you for choosing the Knight Bus, and enjoy your stay." The bus wasn't crowded, and Mr. Crowley gestured down the hall, where there were several empty beds.

"Look, angel, beds. You can sleep on the way home." Aziraphale nodded silently, crawling into one of the beds as the girl loaded their luggage onto an overhead rack with a flick of her wand.

**_"You should sleep too, Crowley,"_ ** his father said,  **_"It will be a long ride home."_ **

**_"But I want to stay awake, talk with you."_ **

**_"You should sleep, Crowley. We'll talk at home."_ **

**_"...I...well, alright..."_ ** He crawled into the bed with Aziraphale, shushing him when the pain flared. Aziraphale eventually managed to fall into a fitful sort of sleep, but Crowley couldn't sleep, too preoccupied with what his father was doing here, and where his mother was. He kept looking up at his father, who smiled and stroked his cheek every time. He looked at his father's hair, which was bright red when he was a human, and inexplicably thought  _ that's where I got my red hair from _ .

Having his father nearby, even as a human, was comforting to him. Almost without realizing it was happening, Crowley's eyes slipped closed, and he fell asleep. 


	18. At Home

**_"Crowley...We're here."_ **

"Mmh?" When he opened his eyes, and saw his father gently nudging him with his hand. Aziraphale was awake and out of bed, and it looked like he'd been awake for some time. Aziraphale looked considerably worse for wear, having both arms wrapped around his stomach and rocking gently.

"Angel?" A glance out the window showed the path that led to their house, and Crowley climbed out of bed.

"I'll be alright, Crowley," Aziraphale said, almost more to himself than to Crowley. The witch from earlier unloaded their trunks, and they set off towards the house. Mr. Crowley put one hand on both their shoulders, trying to comfort them. Crowley looked ill-at-ease, uncertain about the change, no doubt. Aziraphale...looked ready to curl up into a ball at a moment's notice. 

As soon as they got into the house, Crowley was leading Aziraphale to the bedroom.

"Come on, angel, let's get you to bed."

**_"Crowley...I think it would be best if he stayed with you."_ **

**_"He'll be just down the hall, dad."_ **

**_"Crowley, we need to talk, and...it needs to be now."_ **

**_"It can't wait a few hours?"_ **

**_"I'm afraid not."_ **

"...Sorry, angel, dad says you should stay awake a little longer. Come sit here."

"It's alright…" They sat on the ground together, Aziraphale laying his head on Crowley's lap, whimpering quietly and wrapping his arms around his stomach.

**_"Is this about why you came to pick me up at the train station?"_ **

**_"...Yes."_ **

**_"Why didn't mum come pick me up like she normally does?"_ **

**_"..."_ **

**_"...Dad?"_ **

**_"Crowley...I...There isn't any easy way to tell you this..."_ **

**_"What? What's wrong?"_ **

**_"Your mother...she fell ill, some time ago."_ **

**_"Okay?"_ ** Crowley's eyes were wide, his pupils were slits, his golden irises almost all that could be seen. He knew, he just didn't want to admit it.

**_"She went to St. Mungo's to try to get it treated...but there was nothing that could be done."_ **

**_"Dad...what are you saying?"_ ** Tears were starting to pool in Crowley's eyes, and Aziraphale moved one arm from his stomach to wrap it around Crowley's leg. Comforting him, knowing Crowley was upset without knowing why.

**_"...She passed, about a month ago. I'm...I'm so sorry, Crowley."_ **

**_"No...no...no!"_ ** "No, it can't, it can't, it's not, it can't…" But Crowley looked into his father's eyes, and there was no denying it. Aziraphale sat up fully to wrap his arms around Crowley.

"It's alright, Crowley, it's alright…"

"It can't be, it can't be!"

"Shh…"

"She can't be...I saw her, she looked fine!"

"...It's alright, Crowley…"

"She's gone, angel…" Aziraphale froze, and Crowley pulled back, watching Aziraphale look around the house, down the hall, to Mr. Crowley and then back down the hall and then to Crowley. He watched Aziraphale's eyes mist over and his lips start to tremble, and he realized they'd been speaking parseltongue, and Aziraphale wouldn't have known what was going on. Crowley had been the one to break the news to him. Aziraphale pulled Crowley back in for a hug, and when Crowley heard a small sob he broke, crying into Aziraphale's arms. Mr. Crowley leaned forward, wrapping both children in his arms, and they all sat like that, in eachother's arms, for a long time.

"It can't be...It can't be…" Crowley moaned, over and over again, and Mr. Crowley shushed him as best he could. 

Aziraphale was the first to sit up, wiping his eyes, and Crowley reached for him, wrapping his arms around him, not ready to let go.

"Angel...I'm so sorry...and with your stomach…"

"...My stomach is fine now, actually," Aziraphale said, in the voice of someone who was trying very hard to keep himself in check for someone else.

"...What?"

"Just...cleared right up. Don't ask me why, one moment I was in pain and the next...it was like I had never been in pain at all. So...so don't worry about me, Crowley, just...just...Do-do you need anything? Water, or…?" But Crowley was already shaking his head.

"Don't leave me, angel, don't leave me, just stay here…" So Aziraphale let Crowley wrap his arms around him, and tried very hard not to think about the fact that Bea would never wish him well in that no-nonsense voice of hers again.

***

An hour later, Crowley was leaning against Aziraphale's chest, and Aziraphale was running his fingers through Crowley's hair. Crowley had no more tears left to cry, so he lay there in Aziraphale's arms, red-eyed and silent. Mr. Crowley had a hand on Crowley's shoulder and was offering what little consolation he could.

"Stay with me, Aziraphale," he murmured numbly.

"I'm not going anywhere," Aziraphale replied immediately, squeezing Crowley gently.

"Please…"

"I'm not going anywhere, Crowley, I'm staying right here." Mr. Crowley closed his eyes.

**_"Finally..."_ ** Crowley looked, and as he did his father sank to the floor, his body reverting back to the overlarge black and red snake he'd known his whole life. Mr. Crowley immediately wrapped his body around both children, squeezing gently. Crowley grimaced, but with no more tears left nothing happened. Aziraphale, who had been trying to hold himself together for Crowley's sake, started to tremble. Of course Crowley noticed. Attuning himself to Aziraphale's every subtlety had basically become habit at this point.

"...S'alright to cry, Aziraphale."

"I can't…" But he was already crying, trying to muffle the sounds in Crowley's shoulder. Crowley only sighed and held him tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I personally am quite proud of the foreshadowing I did, so a second read-through would be quite enlightening to anyone who missed it, I think. Shameless self-preening? Yes. Also don't worry, I cried more than you did, I promise. 
> 
> A friend of mine said once she could never write fic because "it's boring when you know all the plot twists." I've known this was going to happen since about ten paragraphs into the original Magical Friendship, and yet I still cried every time I opened the Google Doc since...oh, about Christmas in-story. I don't know what she was talking about. There were definitely a few real-life weeks where I only wrote at home because I knew if I opened the Google Doc I'd cry.


	19. Grief

Crowley got his tears back and cried twice more before the worst of it was through. 

"...I'm hungry," he finally said, and Aziraphale nodded, nudging gently at one of Mr. Crowley's coils. Mr. Crowley loosened, letting Aziraphale out before wrapping himself back around Crowley again.

"I'm afraid I'm not the best cook, I sort of...learned on my own…"

"S'alright, angel, whatever you can do." Aziraphale walked to the kitchen, coming back a minute later with cooked pasta and sauce. Crowley stared.

"...This is great, angel."

"Oh, well...thank you." They sat down to eat, Mr. Crowley gently flicking his tongue in the direction of the foreign food.

"...I'm sorry, I completely forgot to ask...did you want some?"

**_"Aziraphale wants to know if you want any."_ **

**_"Thank you, no."_ **

"He's fine."

**_"Does Aziraphale know how to cook by hand?"_ **

"...Do you know how to cook without your wand, angel?"

"I do, yes, but it's faster with my wand. Why?"

**_"He does, why?"_ **

**_"I'd like him to teach me. It's unfair to force him to cook when he's grieving."_ ** Crowley's eyes filled with tears.

"Ar **_en't...Aren't y_ ** ou…?" Born with the innate ability to speak parseltongue or not, Crowley still had human vocal chords, which meant "human speak" won out, and was the language that came most easily to him when he was distressed. His father wrapped around him gently, mindful of the food, and nudged him. Crowley took a breath and forced his voice to cooperate.

**_"Aren't...you...grieving too?"_ **

**_"...I am, however, older than Aziraphale. It would be very sad indeed if he was more accustomed to death than I am. In addition, I've known your mother was ill and would pass for some time. I have had more time to process the eventuality of her death, and a month to grieve her after she passed. The sharpness of my grief has faded. You two will need time, and I will not ask anything of you unless it is absolutely necessary. Now that I can transform into a human, Aziraphale does not need to cook."_ **

**_"...You learning to cook. Never thought I'd see the day."_ ** "...Dad wants you to teach him how to cook so he can cook for us."

"Oh...alright. I can...do that, I suppose…" Crowley nodded at his father, then went back to his food.

**_"How is Aziraphale? Is his stomach better?"_ **

**_"He said it just suddenly went away. He's fine."_ **

**_"...How strange."_ **

***

Night fell. Crowley cried. Aziraphale cried too, but not as often. Eventually it came time for them to go to bed.

"...Sleep with me tonight, angel..."

"Of course, Crowley." The couch was left vacant. Aziraphale laid beside Crowley and wrapped his arms around him, and his father laid atop them both. He squeezed them both tightly, and both children cried through the night. In the nights that followed, they cried less. Crowley started sleeping till late in the morning. Aziraphale, on the other hand, stopped sleeping through the night. He was often awake at all hours of the morning, and Mr. Crowley started covering him slightly less in case he wanted to get water or sit in the living room until sleep came back to him. As a result, he started sleeping during the day, trying to stay awake but frequently nodding off on Crowley's shoulder. It wasn't right, but it was almost easier. He could focus on comforting Aziraphale during the night and Crowley during the day. 

Through it all, they were inseparable. They ate together, they slept together, they cried together, though with less frequency. Mr. Crowley took the potion as needed to cook and care for his children, and became quite comfortable in the human body, but a serpent was what he was and a serpent was what he preferred to be.

***

Crowley had, for the most part, stopped crying in the month that followed, but he was a wreck. His mother's death had hit him hard. On top of sleeping in late, he became moody, and occasionally irritable. The irritability was mostly short-lived, however. Any prolonged silence and he immediately apologized. This effort to reign in his temper was a result of one particular outburst that had led to Aziraphale wide-eyed and threatening tears, and saying 'That's mean, Crowley," in a shaky voice. Crowley had backpedaled more than he ever had before, and had spent about two days cuddling extra close to Aziraphale, soothing him long after he'd stopped apologizing.

Aziraphale, for his part, became...distant. Not from Crowley or him, never that, but...emotionally. Crowley was so upset, and he felt he couldn't be weak. Crowley needed them both, and he felt he couldn't be going around crying when Crowley needed him. Crowley's father stayed close to him, but he was pushed away constantly. 

"Crowley needs you more than I do," he would say, and Crowley's father could do nothing to convince him that his grief was not less than Crowley's because he had not been related by blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this will be the final chapter for Magical Friendship 2, but once I get a little more written the first chapter of Magical Friendship 3 will be up!


End file.
